Let’s hear from both Trevor and Kat, shall we…?
My eyes flicker up to Blonde Zeus’s face as he washes.
His eyes are unfocused, blanked: staring absently into space. He doesn’t notice me, anymore.
I stare harder at his face than I did before, now that I can look openly at him.
Similar to the way he looked at me yesterday morning. When he grinned in my direction.
In that moment, I swear I forgot to breathe.
Trevor is beautiful.
I am smacked with the certainty of it every time he glances my way.
He’s got one of those faces you know you won’t forget.
But you will forget because come on, let’s be honest here. Time will go by and the vision will get fuzzy, but… that’s not what I mean.
What do I mean…?
Ahhh… I know what it is. It isn’t the face that you remember. It’s the feeling. You never forget the way you feel when someone like him crosses your path.
It’s the sensation of suddenly falling: this shortness of breath that immediately overcomes you.
A… slight dizziness develops, as the rest of your body tries to catch up with what your eyes and mind are reeling from.
My body could’ve been hyperventilating (and it practically was), but my face never changed.
I’ve worked for years on fixing my face. Keeping it stoic when everything around me is going to shit.
And I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it too, if I do say so myself.
But not around him. Have I lost my touch? I used to smile when I wanted to smile… laugh, cry and frown on cue.
Around Trevor, I lose control of my faculties. My cheeks flush, my lips curve. I’ve even brought back some old nervous habits.
It’s the look in his brown eyes. He’s not seeing me. He’s reading me.
Instead of a person, I feel like a sonnet… or an essay for him to study: a deconstructed dissertation in which he picks the prose apart, analyzing the sloppy script…
…A piece of me secretly craves it.
I watch him bathe in the distance, my thoughts dismissing his eyes and focusing on his… everything else.
As if Trevor’s face wasn’t enough, his body is perfection… and I have to fight with myself to keep my eyes from roaming lower. Even Zeus himself didn’t look this good. Trevor makes a deity look like a peon.
His shoulders are broad and defined on his tall frame, the muscles lean and corded on his arms and back. His pecs are strong and solid above a diamond-cut abdomen.
The rest lies below the water-line, and I thank God that it does. Any lower than that, and I’d be speaking in tongues like he were a real divine being.
I remind myself…
You don’t even like him. He’s a constant smart-ass. And he clearly thinks he’s the leader of this little duo.
He snapped on you in the first conversation you’ve ever had with him. He abandoned the poor bus driver!
I harden my stare, but on the other hand…
He gave you his bedroll. He shared his belongings. He saved you.
I get up abruptly from the ground, dusting myself off.
You have to focus, Kat. Remember the mission. You’ve got to get to safety, and then… you’re going to find this place.
You have to find this place… I say to myself as I painfully wash.
It’s why you came here: the only reason you came here. You have to forget Kat.
But I can’t forget Kat. She’s the reason behind all of this. She’s the answer.
I need her.
And it’s because I need her that I can’t think about her, can’t let myself get too carried away.
I place my soap back in the bag, shaking my head at myself. Kat.
I stared at her cherry mouth this morning. All morning. Wondering why I was so turned on by it.
It’s her lips. The color.
She doesn’t bite her lip. She almost chews it.
She tucks her bottom lip inside of her mouth, rolling it between her teeth.
She’s not really gnashing the lip. More like playing with it.
It turns her lips a bright red. They’re constantly flushed.
I want them. In my mouth, on my tongue. On my dick.
Christ. Fuck is wrong with me?
We’re out here in the middle of no-fucking-where and I can’t stop thinking with my dick-head.
A clank from our temporary campsite echoes loudly.
Ekatarina tries to arrange the items, but she drops them in the process, reaching clumsily to reposition them.
She’s trying to convince me that she can handle everything herself, but I don’t buy it.
She doesn’t want me to know. Know how fragile she really is.
The way she talked, the way she acted in the beginning…
A cover. She doesn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable she is. Especially me.
She doesn’t trust me.
Can’t say I blame her. I haven’t said two honest words since the moment we met.